


Wild Flowers

by allonsysilvertongue



Category: Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: F/M, and haymitch's attraction to it, perfume scent, pre-thg relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-15
Updated: 2017-04-17
Packaged: 2018-10-19 06:20:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10634061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allonsysilvertongue/pseuds/allonsysilvertongue
Summary: Haymitch has a thing or two to say about Effie's perfume





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Requested by anon: Hi, I don't know if you still get prompts but if you do could you Write something about a new Effie's perfume that Haymitch Really loves and He couldn't stay in the Same room with her because He Wants to kiss her? (They are Not lover)

 

**Part I**

Haymitch could always tell the moment that Effie entered the room.

The clicking of her heels was the first indicator followed by her scent. He knew it was her before she even came into view. The smell of her perfume was always strong, heady, distinctive and downright overwhelming. He hated it. It pierced his nose and he was quite adamant that prolonged exposure lead to him nursing a headache. Sometimes, he turned it into a game. Which would make his head spin first – the perfume or her high pitch voice?

The smell of her designer perfume was seared into his memory and it was something he would easily forget so he knew when she changed her perfume.

It was sweet this time; subtle, even pleasant. When she rounded the sofa where he was sprawled with a drink to give him a passing glance, he caught a whiff of it. _Vanilla_ , he thought. But there was something else; something that smelt of wild flowers from his childhood when the meadow was a place he often frequented.

"The hell are you wearing?" he muttered under his breath.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Your scent… Your perfume – what the hell is it?"

"Oh!" she beamed as if pleased he noticed at all. "Isn't it exotic?"

Clearly, what was exotic to her was home to him and the smell of it on her…

Haymitch swallowed hard before forcing himself to take a drink lest he said something that might embarrass him.

Thinking that the conversation was over, Effie moved closer, not on purpose, but to take the papers from the coffee table. In response to her proximity, Haymitch curled his fingers tighter around the bottle. If he were to move his finger an inch to the left, it would brush against the naked skin just above her knee which her dress did not cover.

"You did not sign on this yet," she waved the paper as she sat next to him. "I instructed you to."

Effie must have sprayed it on her wrist too, he deduced because the smell became stronger as her hand rose in front of his face.

He glanced surreptitiously in her direction to see that she was intently reading the fine print on the paper. Taking that opportunity, he allowed his gaze to linger on her neck, taking in the delicate curve as she bend forward slightly in her seat. He wondered then if she sprayed some on her neck, too. The sudden urge to scoot forward and nuzzle the spot just beneath her jaw with his nose to breath in her scent engulfed him completely. He would like it very much to kiss the hollow of her throat and taste the sweet perfume on her skin. The thought stopped him short.

Haymitch blinked.

_What the hell is wrong with you?_

In a bid to distract himself, he grabbed the paper from her. She made it clear that she thought it was rude to snatch it off her but she then wordlessly handed him the pen and he signed the forms to release the two bodies of their dead tributes to be taken back to Twelve.

"Leave me alone," he muttered.

That earned him a disapproving look.

"You're in a mood today," she commented.

"Considering we lost two tributes ten minutes into the games, yeah, sweetheart, I'm in a fucking mood."

"Fine," she clicked her tongue. "See you next year."

He exhaled loudly through his nose; clenching and unclenching his fingers until the odd desire to go after her just to kiss her dissipated. It wasn't an easy feat because long after she had shut the door to her room, the thought still played in his mind – just like her perfume, she lingered even though she was already gone.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Requested by giulytrinka : Hi, Yesterday I read "Wild Flowers" and I Really love it, could you Write a sequel? Maybe He decided to kiss her or smell her Skin (her nape)?

 

**Part II**

The subtle fragrance of something sweet and floral wafted through the heavy, musky air. Haymitch stirred, his nose wrinkling. That was the first thing he took note of as he slowly awake from his slumber.

 _Weird_ , he thought, because he did not remember passing out in someone's garden or anywhere near the meadow but anything was possible when he had too much to drink.

The throbbing sensation in his head was uncomfortable enough to be distracting but yet, he was aware of someone slipping something in his palm. Without pausing to think, he focused on the insistent voice asking him to swallow the pill and then he tasted the drop of water from the rim of the glass that was pressed to his lips. He gulped both pill and water down, and then hauled himself heavily on his feet.

Haymitch swayed but she was there to hold him steady. As he was guided to a chair, the high pitch voice became clearer. Plopping down unceremoniously, he cradled his head in his hands and let her ramble.

"It is far too late for a shower now. Not to mention that I would rather not have you stumble in the bathroom or trip on your own feet. Heaven knows what would happen if you crack your head open," the voice nagged. "You'll miss the Reaping and what will people say if the mentor of Twelve is not present?"

"Fuck off," he muttered.

It was always nice to know that she cared more about Twelve's reputation than his well-being.

"We'll just have to make you look presentable enough for the Reaping. I can work with that," she said, coming to a stand in front of him. "How's the headache?"

"Would have gone off faster if you _stopped_ talking," he retorted.

"You sound like yourself already," Effie declared with a grin. "Now, stand up."

She was bossy and persistent, and he had to keep swatting her hand away when she kept trying to help him unbutton his shirt, likely because she was impatient with how slow he was going.

"Give me the shirt," he growled.

In the end, she stood and watched as he changed from the sweat stained shirt to a new one.

"Same perfume," Haymitch mumbled out of the blue.

"Where is it? I do not know which cologne you use."

"Not mine, yours - same perfume."

It startled her.

"I – Yes," Effie touched her wig gingerly, unsure of what to make of his observation.

It was worst, he decided, to smell the vanilla and wild flowers here in his home. It made him think of her living in a district. It made him picture her walking through the meadow and leaving it smelling of the flowers there. He imagined her with her natural hair flowing in the wind and a flower tucked behind her ear. It made him want to know the colour of her real hair and how she would look like without the wigs… or the make-up. The scent was making him want to see her as more than just the Effie from the Capitol.

He shook his head to clear his thoughts.

The scent only intensified each time the wind blew in his direction from the open kitchen window, and stronger still as she stepped forward to fix his collar.

He held his breath.

She was so close. Slowly, his fingers began to tap a rhythm against the side of his leg to distract himself.

But when she lifted her hand to tug a strand of hair from the side of his face, his lungs felt like bursting so he inhaled and the mistake cost him. He caught the whiff of the scent from her wrist and without any true conscious thought as to what he was doing he turned his head slightly and pressed a kiss to her wrist.

Effie stilled completely.

He touched her hand, his fingers curling around her wrist to lower it to her side and away from his face.

"Haymitch…" she whispered, her gaze fixed on him.

His eyes flickered towards her, then to her neck and that urge from the year before roared into life inside of him. Lowering his head down to the side of her neck, his nose brushed against her jaw line and finally, he breathed in the scent of her.

"The meadow…" he said, his breath warming her skin, "smells like this."


	3. Chapter 3

** Part III **

The lights in the Penthouse was turned to a low dim, sufficient enough to cast a comfortable glow in the living room where Haymitch was sitting at the very end of the sofa with Effie at the other opposite. After what happened in his kitchen that morning, they were both wisely keeping their distance, Haymitch because he did not trust himself to be near her and Effie because she was not sure what to make of the incident.

What happened was foolish. He had let his guard down when he kissed her neck. Being vulnerable around her made him uncomfortable and he was trying to avoid any further incident.

Effie was intently watching the recaps of the Reaping as if the very fact that he had acted out of character around her was not bothering her at all.

It annoyed him.

Shouldn't she be just as affected the way her perfume was bothering him? Even now, he was focused on trying to regulate his breathing. His glass of whiskey was strategically placed in front of his face under his nose and he had been inhaling the fumes for the past half an hour. So far, it was working. The whiskey was masking the smell of wild flowers wafting off her.

"Finnick Odair," she muttered under her breath which caught his attention. He turned his gaze to the television and at that moment, Effie said out loud what he was thinking. "He is far too handsome."

 _Exactly,_ he thought, and for the boy’s sake, Haymitch hoped that he wouldn't win because death would be better than what was waiting for him once he came off age after his win.

Effie made a few more notes of the tributes on her tablet and when the Reaping ended, she left the living room with a goodnight in his direction. He breathed a sigh of relief. Finally, he set his glass down and propped his feet on the table.

It did not take long for Chaff to emerge from the elevator and into the Penthouse.

"Finally, right?" Chaff rolled his eyes and Haymitch understood what he meant by it – that he was finally freed from having to sit through the recaps. "So, we gonna go to a bar or what?"

Chuckling, Haymitch pushed himself up.

The usual bar they frequented was a distance away from the City Circle and was unusually crowded that night. He heard whispers of Finnick Odair's name, excited murmurs and initial talks of placing bets.

It was not unusual for the Capitol to be excited about a particular tribute but to place bets on a young tribute even before training started was taking it too far. There was something about that boy that was giving the Capitols a blood rush.

Chaff nudged him in the ribs and nodded at a pair of ladies standing in a corner. He moved towards them and Haymitch followed, out of the need to get out of blocking the door more than his interest in those women.

"This place is hot," Chaff said as he sidled up to them. "Like you. _Both_ of you."

Haymitch groaned and abruptly turned around to get himself a drink and put in some distance between him and his friend. That pick-up line was frankly, embarrassing and he did not want to know if the women fell for it.

Except, sure enough, Chaff send one of the women after him. Haymitch bought her a drink simply because he thought it was the right thing to do. He nodded where appropriate as she talked. When she touched his arm and ran her hand up his shoulder with a suggestive smile etched on her lips, he did not react to it. On any other occasion, depending on his mood, he would have flirted right back but tonight... He wasn't into it. He turned his head away slightly.

Haymitch was beginning to think that he was doomed to spend his entire time in the Capitol this season turning his nose up in an attempt to avoid women’s perfume because he was doing the same right now but for an entirely different reason than him trying to evade Effie’s perfume.

The woman – whose name he had already forgotten – smelt of strong, cheap perfume. It was a far cry from the classy perfumes Effie wore and Haymitch was finding it difficult to breath. When she leaned in closer to him, the scent became so overpoweringly harsh that it caught in his throat. He stood up abruptly, surprising her, and he left without a word.

When he burst out of the bar, the fresh air was a welcome change that he decided to enjoy it by walking back to the Penthouse. By the time he reached, he was in a much better mood but stopped short when he saw Effie sitting in the kitchen with a cup of tea in her hand.

She eyed him, likely gauging to see just how drunk he was.

He wasn’t. At least, he wasn’t drunk enough to face her alone in the middle of the night when he spent half the time walking home plotting of a way to steal a piece of her clothing just so he could have her smell. It was insane and downright alarming that he was becoming so obsessed with it.

“Were you waiting for me? I’m touched,” he mocked.

Effie was already in a robe but since she was out of her bedroom, likely waiting to hear of any troubles he might have caused, the wig remained as did a light dusting of make-up. With the robe on, it also meant that he couldn’t smell the wild flowers on her anymore. He understood of course that she wouldn’t be spraying any perfume when she was ready to go to bed but still, _such a shame,_ he thought.

He _liked_ those wild flowers on her.

Emboldened now by the fact that the temptation was not present, Haymitch stepped closer. He walked right behind her to the kitchen counter to get himself a cup and that was when he caught a whiff of something else entirely, something softer and creamier, but equally just as enticing as the wild flowers. It still smelt sweet to him.

It took him awhile to realize that it was her soap. The Capitol loved their floral soap which he tended to avoid at all costs.

Haymitch set his glass down. This was proving to be another problem. With his back to her, Haymitch took a deep breath.

It wasn’t helping. The breathing, the counting down to ten was not helping. The smell was taking up his entire attention. It was front and center.

He turned abruptly and crossed the small distance to stand directly behind her. Effie must have sensed his presence because her grip on the cup tightened in anticipation.

“Is it rose?” he asked in a low voice that reverberated in the empty kitchen. He couldn’t stand it if it were.

“It’s not.”

His hand rose and rested on her shoulder. Effie didn’t move. At all. She sat still, waiting to see what he would do.

He hooked a finger on the collar of the robe and tugged it down to expose her right shoulder. In a daze, he dropped a kiss on it and then another until it reached the curve of her neck and shoulder. Haymitch inhaled the scent. Instead of the wild and exotic, this floral smell mixed with her natural scent was calming. It didn’t make his blood rush but it made him want to do something equally stupid like to gently touch and caress her.

“You – You have a thing for flowers,” she noted, her own breath hitching in response to her touch.

“No,” he denied in a growl, but when she turned in her seat to face him, he said, “I might. I don’t know. I’ve never thought about it until – don’t wear that perfume anymore, those wild flowers.”

“Why?” she asked in a challenge. “You don’t get to say in what I choose to use.”

There was something in the way she was staring at him with those blue eyes that twinkled with a hint of stubbornness and defiance that made his stomach stir. He placed a finger under her chin to hold her in place.

“Because it’s making me want to do things with you and I wouldn’t know what I’d do if – if I smell it on you again. It’s a line I ain’t willing to cross, a line we _shouldn’t_ cross.”

“Would it be so bad if the lines were blurred?”

“Don’t,” he warned.

“Don’t what Haymitch?” she taunted. “Don’t wear the perfume? Or was that really meant for you? Don’t kiss me… Was that it? Because you want to, don’t you?”

He clenched his jaws and gritted his teeth.

“Do it,” she demanded. “Give in to it. There is no point in torturing yourself and denying yourself that.”

The grip he had on her chin tightened in reflex as his gaze flickered to her. She stared at him unyielding and the smell of the floral soap mixed with the tension in the air was too much even for him who prided himself in his self-control.

The kiss was bruising and rough which she returned in equal fervor. It grew heated and messy rather quickly, and when she bit on his bottom lip, he pushed back. He was clutching the edge of the table to steady himself while the other had moved from her chin to cradle the back of her head. His body was trapping her in between him and the table behind her. At some point, she had tried to stand up and wrestle control but he made sure she remained seated as he kissed her until they were both breathless, panting, and mortified by the intensity of it.

For years after that, he never smelt the wild flowers on her anymore. It didn’t mean he wanted her any less because the wild flowers was just the catalyst. When she did wear it again years later after the war, it was always a surety that they would end up behind closed doors for hours.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have this long standing hc that Haymitch has a thing for flowers after seeing him sniff them in THG & CF.


End file.
